Changes
by Maaya
Summary: In which Chandler finds himself in an unfortunate situation (a silly little Halloween thing).
1. Changes

**A/N:** Just a little silly something inspired by the holiday season. Wanted to write it a bit earlier, but I've had exams up until now, pretty much, so there was no time. Set in a True Blood-like 'verse (humans and vampires co-exist, relatively peacefully). But this is meant as a parody so don't take it too seriously.

**Changes**

"And you had no idea she was a vampire?" Joey asked between stuffing his mouth with a blueberry muffin, crumbs spraying everywhere. Chandler made a face as the scent of it reached his recently transformed sense of smell.

"If I had, I wouldn't have gone out with her," he said, then recoiled, surprised by the glares he received from the girls. Monica reached over the armrest of the armchair she was occupying to hit his arm. Chandler almost winced out of pure habit before he realized that it hadn't hurt. At all.

"Chandler, that's racist."

"What?" He glanced at the entire gang, holding out his hands to draw attention to his person. "I mean, look what happened."

The gesture wasn't effective as he would have wished, probably because physically, he didn't_ look_ any different. The two bite marks on his neck were the only indication of the transformation he had undergone the night before. Inside, he had already noticed some changes, however. All his senses had improved noticeably, and from what little he had read he knew that it was only going to become better (or worse, depending how you decided to see it). It wasn't only his senses, however, but his perception of them. The sight and scent of regular food was already making him nauseous.

Not to mention, his perception of color felt slightly...off. Everything seemed washed out somehow, but the contrasts between light and dark were almost unrealistically clear. The only color that stood out now was, naturally, red. It was bright, vibrant. Even alluring.

He felt more like he had been turned into a bull than a vampire, to be honest.

The girl who had turned him had been so apologetic she had almost cried. She was new, herself, and had apparently been overwhelmed with all the sensations. What little blood she had tasted from him had been delicious, she had told him. As if that would somehow be of any comfort to him.

That was all it took. One single bite.

Jeez.

"So," Ross said slowly, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence that had fallen among them. "Have you registered your new status yet?"

"Did this morning. They have an online service for it now." Chandler rolled his eyes. "They're gonna send an introductory package."

The law stated that, unless the person had a valid reason, he or she had to register a change in status within twenty-four hours after turning. Chandler had never really thought much about it, but now he thought the law did feel somewhat unfair. He would have to get a new passport now as well, just to get his physical status updated with the information. What was up with that?

"So what's it like?" Rachel leaned forward, looking oddly intrigued. "I mean, I've read a lot about it, but..."

Chandler eyed her warily. "Nothing like in my mother's books, if that's what you're asking." His voice came out a bit sharper than intended. Yeah, he really didn't want to think about his mother's books. Especially not right now.

Rachel held up her hands, sitting back on the couch again. "Fine. I was just curious."

He made a face at her; she made one back.

"So are you going out with her again?" Joey asked, licking his fingers off.

Chandler gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? She turned me into a _vampire_."

Monica straightened. "You said she was really upset about it, poor girl."

"What about me? I'm _never _going to be human again. Poor me!"

"Don't be silly." Rachel reached to pat his arm. "You're still human. You just have... a condition."

"Can I see your fangs?" Phoebe asked.

Chandler considered storming out of the coffee shop, but a quick glance out of the windows revealed that the rain was still pouring down. He sighed, leaning back against the couch. It wasn't only the colors and scents; he would hear the heartbeats of all his friends, steady and strong and pumping beautiful, fresh blood into their arteries.

He blinked at the thought, then shook his head to try and rid himself of it.

"Do you think I could convince them to serve blood substitute here?" asked, mostly to distract himself. "I mean, most of the big chains serve it now."

"If they refuse, we could always write a petition." Phoebe looked almost excited by the thought. "Vampire rights are very important. In some ways it's like we're living in the stone age, still."

"Yeah," Chandler said, faintly, rubbing his forehead. Once he had started noticing the sound of heartbeats, it was difficult to block out.

"You alright?" Monica asked, and he looked up to her somewhat concerned face.

"Yeah," he said. "Just... vampire stuff, I guess."

She patted his hand comfortingly, and Chandler noted another vampire cliché that was false. He _could_ still feel warmth.

That was something, at least.


	2. Taste

Well, it was meant as a one-shot, but my mind kept coming up with small scenes. Here's another one. Still silly, I'm sorry I'm so weird.

I feel like that one strange kid that has to play alone in the sandbox.

**Taste**

Forty-eight hours ago Chandler would have balked at the taste. He would have found it bitter, cold and metallic; now, it is like it is fulfilling every craving that he has ever had. The taste is the same, probably, and he can't for his life describe it properly. Drinking it is like drinking rich, hot chocolate on a cold day; a cold beer after a long day at work; eating cold pepperoni pizza when hungover. It is amazing.

Chandler hears someone moan, slow and pleasurable; then blinks himself out of the moment when he realizes that it is _him_.

"Should we... give you and that bottle some privacy?" Ross asks, breaking what appears to have been a somewhat uncomfortable silence as they all stare at him.

Chandler carefully tries to seem composed as he somewhat reverently puts the bottle of blood substitute on the table. "It's, uh, good."

"It looked like a bit more than that," Rachel chortles, not at all intimidated by the glare Chandler sends her way.

"Um." Monica motions delicately and vaguely at her own mouth. "You have a bit of, fang."

Chandler raises a hand to feel for himself, fascinated as he carefully investigates them with his fingers. The teeth in question have suddenly grown a bit, enough to be visible beneath his upper lip. The ends are almost as sharp as needles, and Chandler immediately winces at the thought of accidentally biting his lip with these. Ugh.

"Do I look dangerous?" he says, half-ironically, half-hopefully. His image _could_ use some mystery to help him get away from the 'funny guy' gimmick, and if vampirism doesn't give it to him, well, nothing probably will.

Monica looks at him thoughtfully. "No. More like a..." she pauses, searching for the word before giving up and shrugging. "Kitten."

"Ohh," Phoebe says. "Booklets!"

She is digging through his introductory package with more interest than Chandler himself had done. He had gotten sort of distracted by the scent coming from the small samples of blood substitute that had been included. One from each fake blood type. It may just be a first impression, but the O variations are particularly delicious.

"What do they say?" he asks, unenthused.

"Let's see." She thumbs through a booklet named 'Velcome Vampire'. "Cool, you can see in the dark?"

He shrugs, because, well, yeah. He doesn't need a booklet to tell him that.

"Here are some recipes." Monica has begun to dig through the box as well.

"Hey, look at this." Rachel holds up a leaflet. In red, cheery letters it says 'Vampire Sexuality: Myths and Truths'.

"There are truths?" Phoebe stops looking through her booklet and leans forward, intrigued.

"Give me that." Chandler snags the leaflet out of Rachel's hands and holds it protectively to his chest. It seems entirely unfair that his friends should find out about this kind of thing before even he has a chance to.

"Hey," Rachel protests. "We want to know too." She pauses. "Have you... noticed anything different?"

Chandler grimaces at the thought of all the clichées that his mother uses on the subject. Vampirism is actually her _favorite _subject, and Chandler knows that he should probably have to inform her of her son's new physical status one of these days. He is not looking forward to that phone call.

"Bite me," he snaps instead, giving his friends a disgusted look as they all start to chortle.


End file.
